


Just Right, or, Draco and the Three Gryffindors

by eeyore9990



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Draco, Goldilocks and the Three Bears Elements, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-21
Updated: 2006-09-21
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5871070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy enlists the “help” of the Sorting Hat to find his perfect top.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Right, or, Draco and the Three Gryffindors

“Where have all the good tops gone?” 

Pansy rolled her eyes at Draco’s lament. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it and she knew it wouldn’t be the last time, but really, she was getting a bit tired of the constant bitching. “Draco, pet, you’re too damn picky.”

Draco drew back, slightly affronted. “There’s no such thing as too picky. I’m a Malfoy, a Slytherin; I deserve the best.”

Blaise nodded in agreement, which was rather difficult to see, buried as his head was in Pansy’s breasts. “I agree,” he said, voice muffled. 

“Oh, easy for you to say,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve got _me_ , after all.”

“What am I going to do? I’m tired of spending my nights on my back, wasting time under slobbering, low-talent tops.”

Blaise looked up, sighing deeply at having to pull his face away from his own personal nirvana to deal with another of Draco’s moments of sexual crisis. “The answer seems obvious, Draco. You need to be re-sorted.”

Pansy and Draco turned their heads in a nearly perfectly synchronized move to look at Blaise as if he’d lost his mind. 

He waved a hand and said, “Pfft, not re-sorted out of Slytherin, but surely the Hat can sort you into the right bed, don’t you think? I mean, it spends all its time these days thinking up those dreadful beginning of term songs. I would think it would welcome the challenge of finding you a top.”

Draco blinked, pale lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he contemplated this idea. “You know, Blaise, that might be the least inane thought you’ve ever had. In fact, it might just be bloody brilliant.”

Pansy slowly nodded her head before dazzling Blaise with a blinding smile. “You’re going to get even luckier tonight, love. A stroke of genius like that deserves a special reward.”

Blaise gasped, hope flaring in his dark eyes. “The little blue knickers?”

Pansy nodded, lips closing on a sly grin. “The little blue knickers.”

~*~

“Hurry, boys, we don’t have all night. Now, Hat, are you fully aware of what it is we want from you?”

The rip in the Sorting Hat’s brim trembled a bit before it opened fully and said, in quite simply the most condescending voice any of the three had ever heard (and being Slytherins, they had quite the repertoire of condescension to draw from), “You want me to find Goldilocks his perfect Bear.”

The three pureblood heirs to the three most infamous pureblood families looked at one another with a total lack of comprehension before Draco finally said what they were all thinking. “Huh?”

“Children these days,” the Hat snorted, disgust lacing its tone. “Wouldn’t know a decent story if the book rose up off the shelf and bit you.”

Blaise rubbed a spot on his wrist where he still bore the scars of an Unfortunate Incident with a Book of Ill Repute. “Wasn’t anything ‘decent’ about that story at all,” he mumbled, eyeing the Hat with more that a little suspicion.

“Never mind, never mind,” the Hat said, sounding soul-weary. “Just sit down and plop me on your head. I’m just a useless magical artefact, that’s all.” If the Hat had eyes, they would be rolling, but the sarcasm was lost on this particular audience. They had all lived through six years with Severus Snape as their Head of House, after all. The Hat’s rusty sarcasm was no match for that man’s cutting wit.

Draco took a deep breath and gently grasped the tip of the Hat, closing his eyes as he settled it over his head.

“Ah ha,” its voice whispered in his head. “I see you’ve exhausted all logical possibilities in your own House. Though you might want to rethink your policy about the Goyle boy… no? Well, too bad, then.”

“Hufflepuff is out of the question. You won’t find a willing top in _that_ House, I can assure you. Ravenclaw has some possibilities, but nothing that would suit your tastes, I don’t think. Gryffindor it is… but who? Yes, the burning question.”

Draco shifted his weight to one foot and opened his eyes to inspect his manicure while the Hat muttered to itself. He got distracted by the sight of Pansy’s foot tapping impatiently and he shrugged at her, rolling his eyes and pointing to the Hat before making the universal puppet sign for “it won’t shut up” with his hand.

“I know! Yes, I have them!” the Hat crowed out loud, startling Blaise who was bent over a Pensieve in the corner, about to plunge his head in.

“In your quest   
For a world-class top,  
You can’t go wrong   
With that lovely f—“

“No!” Three voices shouted. Draco waved at Blaise and Pansy and took off the Hat to give it a stern look. “No singing. Just tell me. Who is it?”

“Three Gryffindors you’ll have to try. One of them is the perfect top for you. The other two are perfect tops in their own right; you are simply not their perfect bottom.”

Draco sniffed, vaguely insulted, but didn’t say anything, waiting for the Hat to give him the names. 

“The three are Seamus Finnigan, Colin Creevey, and Harry Potter.”

“Potter!” Draco shouted, glaring at Blaise when he doubled over in hilarity. Pansy, that sweet woman, smacked him in the back of the head for Draco. He blew a kiss at her before putting the Hat back on its perch.

The three students left quickly before they could be caught, aware of how much time had already elapsed.

As they rushed out the door, they didn’t hear a slightly evil chuckle emitted from the Hat. “Not even a word of thanks,” it grumbled before its rip curled up at the edges in a vaguely menacing way. “Enjoy the hunt, Goldilocks. You’ll find your top, but not before I get my revenge.”

~*~

Draco looked up at Finnigan, trying desperately not to wince with every thrust the boy made into his body. Not that Finnigan would notice, really, as tightly shut as his eyes were, but Draco was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn’t show that kind of weakness. Actually, Malfoys didn’t show weakness at all. 

Finnigan pumped away, guttural moans and harsh words forcing themselves past the pleasure-grimace he was wearing. Lips stretched thin with passion kept repeating over and over, “So tight, Malfoy, so focking good. You feel so focking good.” 

Draco just nodded and squeezed a bit tighter, hoping to choke the orgasm out of his bed partner. Of course he was tight; of course he was good. He was Draco fucking Malfoy, after all. It didn’t get any better than him. Conceited? Maybe. True? Definitely. He was prime goods, and he knew it.

When a drop of sweat landed on his chest, Draco made a face and finally just pushed Finnigan off of him. At the other boy’s cry of protest, Draco sat up and gave him a slightly pitying look. 

“Listen, Finnigan. You’re a decent bloke, so I’m going to be nice about this. We’ve been here for forty-five minutes. Three of those minutes were spent in foreplay. And the foreplay was great; don’t misunderstand me. But you’ve been poking that monster cock of yours in my arse for the other forty-two minutes. The first ten were fantastic. The second ten were mind-blowing. Really. The way you could tell that was when I came hard enough to catch a cramp in my foot. The other twenty-two minutes? Not so wonderful. I’m sorry, Finnigan, but you need to work on your timing. You just… take too long. It’s not so nice for the one on the bottom.”

With those excellent words of wise counsel, Draco reached for his trousers and pulled them on, not bothering to hide the wince as he slid to the edge of the bed. His robes went on over the top of everything, and he was stepping into his shoes when Finnigan finally stopped sputtering long enough to lodge a protest. 

“Malfoy, you prick! You could at least finish me off!”

Draco sighed, cast a smoothing charm over his hair, and turned back to Finnigan. “I don’t have that kind of time, love. We have class in ten hours.”

With that parting shot, he left the Room of Requirement and gingerly walked down eight flights of stairs to the dungeons, longing for his personal stash of pain potions that were currently resting comfortably in the bottom of his trunk. He made a mental note to bring a vial or two with him the next time he scheduled a rendezvous. 

~*~

Several nights later, Draco blinked down at his groin in surprise. His prick was drenched in come, and a very apologetic Colin Creevey was bubbling over with excuses. 

“I’m not normally… that is, I can last longer, I promise! It’s just, I’ve been looking forward to this all day, and now… shite, Draco, let me make it up to you, please?”

Draco’s eyebrows rose as he considered this. It really wouldn’t hurt to let the boy try again later. He had a nice enough body, having filled out exceptionally well, and his prick, when it wasn’t spontaneously ejaculating, was rather perfectly shaped. He nodded regally and said, “Fine, Creevey, but you owe me one. You may suck my cock now. Be sure to clean all that spunk off me, there’s a good boy.”

Creevey let out a sigh of relief and plunged his head between Draco’s spread legs, licking and slurping up all the spilled come before plunging his mouth down onto Draco’s erect cock. Draco lay back with a smirk, eyes closing as he enjoyed Creevey’s eagerly sucking mouth. It wasn’t as satisfying as a good buggering, but he was content to wait ‘til the next night for that.

Having an eager to please lover wasn’t really a hardship, as long as he eventually proved to be a good top as well.

~*~

Draco shook his head at the ‘oh fuck’ look on Creevey’s face. “Not again!”

Creevey cringed and pulled the tip of his now-soft prick out of Draco’s arse. “I’m sorry, Draco! I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong! It’s just… you’re so hot, and just looking at you makes me so horny, and…” His voice trailed off on an unhappy sigh. “At least I got in you this time. That’s got to count for something, right?”

Draco frowned mutinously. “It counts for nothing, Creevey. I gave you three chances. Three! The fact that you managed to get the very head of your cock in my arse this time before spewing everywhere doesn’t exactly do anything for me. You flash faster than your damn camera! Stupid Hat didn’t know what it was talking about.” He sat up and stiffly pulled his trousers on, stalking around the room to collect the rest of his discarded clothing. “First Finnigan, now you… Gods, how horrible is Potter going to be?”

Creevey’s breath hitched and Draco stared in horrified fascination as the boy got hard and shot his load again in one swift motion. He shook his head, tugged his robes on, and left.

Colin sat back against the headboard, trying hard not to think of the two hottest boys in the school—Hell, probably in all of Britain—shagging. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful in blocking those images, and seconds later, a third, nearly dry, orgasm overtook his body.

~*~

“All right, Potter!” Draco said, planting his fists on the Gryffindor table the next morning at breakfast. He sneered at Weasley when the boy jumped to his feet, fumbling in his robes for his wand. “Sit down, you buffoon. I need to speak with Potter, here, and you’re definitely not invited for this conversation.”

Potter calmly kept eating, putting spoonful after spoonful of porridge into his mouth. If Draco didn’t know better, he’d think Potter was ignoring him completely. Which was, of course, impossible. Draco was simply far too beautiful to be ignored. Ahh, Potter was playing hard to get. Draco smirked condescendingly and slowly ran the flat of his hand down his hard, lean chest. There. That was a move guaranteed to get results.

Potter’s eyes twitched to him before that prat reached for the serving dish, spooning even more porridge into his bowl.

“Potter!” Draco growled.

Potter heaved a heavy, world-weary sigh and rolled his eyes up to Draco’s, expression bored. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“I want a word, Potter.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy enough. Let’s see.” Potter put a finger to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully before his face lit up and he turned mocking eyes on Draco. “Ah, I know, you can have ‘alack.’ No one’s using it anymore.”

“Alack, Potter, if you don’t move your arse, I’m going to beat you to a bloody pulp.”

Potter blew a breath out and shook his head at Granger, who looked in imminent danger of bursting a blood vessel in her temple. Potter stood up from the long bench, preceding Draco from the Hall. As soon as the doors closed behind them, Potter spun and glared at Draco. “What, Malfoy?” he asked, voice heavy with irritation. “What the hell could you possibly want that couldn’t wait until after breakfast?”

Draco crossed his arms and smirked at Potter. “I have a proposition for you, Potter.”

“Ah, well, in that case, no, I’m not interested.”

Draco frowned and huffed an aggrieved breath. “Potter, if you’ll stop being a pain in the arse and listen for two seconds, you might find that you _are_ , in fact, interested.” 

Potter smiled tightly and said, “Fine, Malfoy, you have two seconds.” He waited two beats before turning on his heel and starting to walk back to the doors.

“I want you to top me,” Draco said and smirked when Potter stumbled. Slowly the prat turned back to him, eyes wide as saucers.

“ _What_ did you just say?” he asked, voice thin with shock.

Draco’s smirk widened to a sensual curve of lips and he put pure sex in his stride as he slowly walked toward Potter, swaying his hips slightly as he stalked forward. “I said… I want you… to top me.” By this time, Draco was right up in Potter’s face, close enough to lick his lips. So he did. “Think about it, won’t you? If you’re interested in salvaging the name of Gryffindor, meet me at the Room of Requirement at nine thirty this evening. Bring your little Invisibility Cloak. Snape has rounds tonight.”

He spun and walked away, smirking as he pictured Potter’s stunned features. The prat hadn’t known what hit him.

~*~

Later that night, Draco was beginning to get impatient. Nine thirty had come and gone, and there was still no sign of Potter. Draco frowned petulantly. It was just like Potter to spoil Draco’s sex life like this. He was about to curse Potter and all his descendants when the door opened and a figure burst through, eyes scanning the room before lighting on Draco.

“You came,” Draco said, standing slowly up from the bed where he’d been waiting. He rolled his eyes when Potter chuckled at the double entendre, but missed the chance for a cutting remark when Potter answered him seriously.

“I’m a _guy_ , Malfoy. You offered me _sex_. Of course I came.”

“It doesn’t hurt that I’m the best looking boy in school,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, that’s certainly debatable, but if it gets so bad I can’t continue, I’ll just toss a pillowcase over your head.”

Draco glared and stood up, stiff with indignation. He was about to storm dramatically from the room when Potter crossed to him and pulled him into a long, surprisingly delicious kiss. Hmm, there was something to be said for a take-charge, impulsive lover. Draco relaxed and leaned into Potter, letting his hands smooth up Potter’s sides, moving to Potter’s chest to tweak his nipples through the fabric of his shirt.

Potter growled into Draco’s mouth and grabbed his wrists before urging him backward, into the poster of the bed. Potter brought Draco’s unresisting hands up, pressing them against the wood even as he ground his hips against Draco’s, forcing moans from both boys.

Potter pulled back, eyes glittering into Draco’s as he said, voice husky, “How far are you prepared to go tonight, Malfoy?”

Draco allowed his eyelids to slide to half-mast and licked his lips, rolling his pelvis before he answered. He knew how sexy he looked and wasn’t above using that. “I’m not much for denying myself something I want, Potter,” he said. “I want someone decent to top me, and as of now it’s down to you and Goyle.”

Potter’s body went slightly stiff as a grimace twisted his lips. “Goyle?” he asked, obviously disgusted.

Draco shot him a cool look and said, “Yes, Potter. Goyle. Is there some reason you think he wouldn’t be a proper top for me?” he asked, voice warning Potter of his trigger temper. Potter would be tripping over himself to apologise any moment now…

“That’s a bit sick, Malfoy. I think you might have put me right off sex for life.”

“Fuck you, Potter. If you’re going to go off sex, you’ll just have to wait ‘til tomorrow. I want to be topped first.”

“Malfoy,” Potter said warningly before tightening his grip on Draco’s wrists and biting his lower lip. “Shut up.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed and he pushed forward with his hips, saying, “Potter, I want your cock in my arse. That does not translate to ‘I want you to be a cocky arse.’”

Potter chuckled breathlessly, and left off nibbling on Draco’s neck long enough to look at Draco, humour lighting his gaze. “You’re going to be a bitchy little bottom, aren’t you? Always have to be a brat.”

Draco smirked. “I prefer the terms ‘demanding’ or ‘exacting,’ thanks. There’s nothing wrong with directing your own pleasure, Potter.”

Potter rolled his eyes and went back to doing delightful things to Draco’s neck. His voice, when it came, was muffled. “It’s my job to direct your pleasure, Malfoy. Just relax and enjoy it, for Merlin’s sake.”

Draco tilted his head back, eyelids closing in satisfaction as Potter proved he was slightly less than inept at seduction. In fact, the wanker found _that spot_ nearly right away, the one that was guaranteed to make Draco beg like a shameless tramp. It was just that spot at the very top of his clavicle, where the skin was thinnest, and when Potter’s teeth scraped lightly across it, Draco heard himself gurgle. 

Potter stilled for a second at that sound and did it again. This time, Draco couldn’t hold back a small whimper and a breathless plea for, “More!”

“Too damn bossy by half,” Potter muttered, and Draco could feel his lips curling up in a grin against his skin just before he worried the bone with his teeth. Draco’s knees turned to water and he started to slide down the poster before Potter released his wrists and caught him around his waist. 

Unbuttoning Draco’s shirt the rest of the way, Potter slid the hand not supporting Draco under the material and found a nipple, twisting it lightly as he sucked the flesh his teeth had so recently marked. Draco actually choked as he gurgled and gasped at the same time. 

“Hmm, interesting,” Potter said, pulling him away from the semi-support of the poster and eased him down onto the soft mattress of the bed, watching avidly as Draco’s parted shirt fell to either side of his pale chest, highlighting the lean muscles in a vivid blue colour. He looked into Draco’s passion-bright eyes and allowed his hand to rest on the buckle of Draco’s belt, not quite brushing against his erection, but close enough that if Draco raised his hips he’d be palming it.

A staring contest, a battle of iron wills, and then Potter grinned. “Not going to be easy, Malfoy? Good. I like a challenge.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You know damn well I’m easy, Potter, but that doesn’t mean I have to be boring, now does it?”

Potter laughed softly and walked his fingers up Draco’s abdomen, expression turning hot and serious when Draco sucked in a breath, his stomach hollowing out as Potter’s fingers lightly brushed the thin trail of hair just under his navel. “There, too?” he asked, but his query was only met by a sardonic stare and a raised eyebrow. “Ah, well, I’ll find out soon enough.”

Draco groaned and felt his cock twitch at the pure promise in Potter’s voice.

“Close your eyes, Malfoy,” Potter said, voice husky. 

Draco raised one eyebrow, the universal sign for _whatthefuckever_. 

“Trust me. I’ll make sure you enjoy it.” Potter’s tone turned cajoling.

Draco heaved a sigh and closed his eyes grumpily. “If I _don’t_ enjoy it, Potter, I’m taking it out of your arse.”

A soft chuckle, then, “And here I thought you were a bottom, Malfoy. How disappointing to find I’m wrong _now_.”

“Shut up, prat and get to the ‘making me enjoy it’ part.”

Potter’s hand left him completely, and Draco was tempted to open his eyes, but he felt the warm brush of lips against his eyelids, followed by a murmur of, “Good boy.”

“I’m not a bloody dog, Potter.”

“Mmm, and here I was hoping for some growling and barking. Damn. How disappointing. I suppose this means you won’t hump my leg when I see you tomorrow, either?” 

“The leg humping is strictly dependent on how well I enjoy—oh, fuck, Potter, do that again!”

Potter laughed softly and nipped the very tip of his ear again before burrowing behind it with his nose, lipping at the tender, sensitive ridge of bone just there. Draco turned his head to grant easier access, lips parting to quiet his panting breaths.

This time as Potter rubbed his stubble-covered chin over that spot, he simultaneously scraped the ragged edge of a fingernail over Draco’s collar bone. Draco shouted and his hands flailed about for a moment before hitting Potter’s cloth-covered thigh. He latched onto it, squeezing until his hand trembled at the force of his grip.

Potter shifted his weight on the mattress and covered Draco’s hand with his own. Draco let go of Potter’s leg and twisted his hand, gripping Potter’s wrist. He tugged on it, trying to get Potter’s hand down to his groin, but Potter made a warning noise and applied enough resistance to let Draco know he wasn’t going to move that fast. 

Oh, fuck. Potter was going to _take his time_. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Draco would turn into a Creevey if he did that! Hell, he was close to coming in his pants already, and Potter hadn’t really even started. Draco whimpered again and decided that begging wasn’t quite as far beneath him as he’d always supposed. 

“Please, Potter! Fuck! Hurry!”

Potter hummed but didn’t let up his sensual assault of Draco’s ears and throat. Draco pressed his shoulders and head back into the mattress as firmly as he could, hoping that would distract him from the sensations rocketing through him. Potter’s lips moved to his chest again, then, and Draco’s breath caught as that hot mouth turned right, the full lips brushing lightly over _that_ spot.

Granting Draco a small reprieve from total humiliation—if Potter had spent even another second there, Draco would have some explanations to make to the House Elves in the morning—and licked, sucked, and bit down the right side of Draco’s chest, tongue delving up and under his lowest rib, as if to see if Draco was hiding anything there. 

Draco sucked in a sharp breath as Potter dipped his tongue into Draco’s shallow navel. He lost the ability to breathe completely when Potter took the rim of it between his teeth and bit down gently. “Nghng!” burst from Draco’s throat when Potter let go and opened his mouth over the whole thing before he sucked hard.

Draco couldn’t have opened his eyes now if it had been required of him. The skin around them was puckered with how hard he squeezed his eyelids closed. His head was tossing on the bed and Draco could feel the blanket rucking up beneath him.

Potter lifted his head, leaving Draco moaning for more touching, more kissing and licking, just _more_ , but Potter made a shushing noise and Draco felt pressure against the back of his waist as his belt was quickly undone and pulled on, the end catching for a moment around one of his belt-loops before, with a gentle tug, it was free and the belt snaked completely out of his trousers.

A few more tugs and some grunting later, and Draco was naked from the waist down, though his shirt was still lying under him on the bed, the sleeves falling off his shoulders. When Potter was done, he sat back between Draco’s knees and told Draco to open his eyes.

Draco did, but it took him a moment or two. His eyes had been so tightly closed for so long that the muscles around them quivered before his eyelids slowly fluttered open. He forced himself to focus on Potter’s face, and said, “I know you aren’t stupid enough to be stopping _now_.”

Potter licked his lips and shook his head, not even bothering to meet Draco’s eyes. His hot gaze was locked on Draco’s cock and he eased back, voice sounding choked as he told Draco to get on the bed properly, against the pillows. Draco rolled his head back and groaned, not wanting to move even that far. It would take too long when he wanted to simply throw his legs over Potter’s shoulders and beg the prat to fuck him.

“Go, Draco,” Potter said softly, reaching out one hand to run a finger down the length of Draco’s cock. “I promise you’ll be more comfortable up there.”

Draco whimpered, but moved quickly, crab-crawling backward and collapsing against the pillows as he watched Potter slowly pull his tee shirt over his head and fling it to the floor. Potter’s hands went to the button on his trousers and he undid the top one before stopping and crawling onto the bed. 

Draco took in Potter’s hungry gaze as the other boy crawled up his body, eyes flashing, telling Draco how that Potter wanted this as much as Draco did. Draco rose up and met Potter halfway, their lips crushing together, already parted, tongues twining instantly. Draco put one hand to the back of Potter’s head and dragged him down, deepening the kiss further still. 

They slid slowly against one another as they kissed, and Draco felt his need spike higher than before. He moaned and tugged on Potter’s hair, pulling him back enough to whisper against his mouth, “Potter, I really, _really_ want you to fuck me now.” His open lips stretched into a grin as he felt Potter shudder at his words.

Harry lifted off of Draco and knelt over him. From the pocket of his trousers, he withdrew a vial of clear liquid and pressed it into Draco’s hand. “Prepare yourself. I want to watch those fingers of yours slide inside you. I’ve been thinking about it all day, couldn’t get the image out of my head. I want to see it for real. Please?”

Draco’s breath caught for a minute before it left him in a rush. He slowly nodded and watched as Potter’s eyes dropped to his hands, which trembled slightly as he brought the vial up and removed the stopper. He upended it over his right hand, watching as the viscous fluid slid slowly from the glass to pool in the palm of his hand. He handed the vial to Potter, who seemed to almost be in a trance as he took it from him. 

Draco rubbed both hands together, heating the thick oil, making sure to coat his fingers. He dropped his right hand to his stomach and slid it slowly down his body, quickly smoothing over his cock before giving a squeeze to his balls and continuing down. He flattened his fingers and smoothed them over the skin behind his balls, slowly circling them around his hole, massaging the puckered skin there, chest heaving at the sensations that spiked through him from that. 

He looked back up at Potter and had to bring his other hand down to squeeze the base of his cock hard to keep from coming. Potter’s mouth was open, quick, panting breaths passing between his spread lips, glazed eyes locked on Draco’s hand. Draco bit his lip and slowly slid the very tip of one finger through the tight ring of muscle, eyes sliding closed, unable to bear the visual stimulation of Potter watching him as well as the physical sensations that pounded through him.

He slid one finger as high into his body as he could reach, curling it ever so slightly, then pumping in and out, back arching as he fingered himself. When he knew he could take it, he pulled that finger almost all the way out and added a second in beside it. This time, instead of the slow slide, he pushed them quickly and forcefully into himself.

He heard Potter moan then and he tried to smirk, but failed. He felt too damn good for anything other than a blinding smile and he was far too much a Malfoy for _that_. Instead, he viciously fucked himself on his fingers, hips snapping on the bed as he let his body take over.

Suddenly, he felt something soft brush his inner thighs and his eyes popped open. He looked to where Potter had been sitting and saw only empty space. A tongue lapping at his hand drew his gaze and he watched Potter’s dark head bob between his thighs even as he felt that tongue sweep over his fingers as they retreated from his body. 

Potter’s hand on his wrist stopped him from plunging his fingers back inside himself, and then Potter was tugging on it, pulling his hand completely away from his arse, forcing a frustrated groan from Draco. Draco was almost shocked, though, when Potter turned his head and sucked the two fingers that had been in Draco’s arse into his mouth, tonguing them, sucking them, nibbling on the pads at the tips. When Potter had cleaned the remaining oil from his fingers, he pulled Draco’s hand away from his mouth, but didn’t move from his position between Draco’s legs. 

Draco shouted, a mixture of pure pleasure and shocked confusion roiling through him as he felt Potter’s tongue sweep over his entrance. “Oh, fuck, Potter!” he shouted, voice breaking on the words as his hips came straight off the bed. Potter just pressed him back down and settled in, tongue, lips, and teeth worshipping Draco there, loosening him even further than his own fingers had done.

Draco was ready to join Potter’s fan club and fund it for life by the time Potter finally pulled back, lower face glossy with a combination of saliva and oily lubrication. Potter jumped off the bed and frantically unfastened his trousers the rest of the way, pushing both the trousers and pants down in one motion. He tripped a bit as the bottoms of his trousers refused to part with his feet, and after some hopping around, finally just sat on the side of the bed and ripped them off.

Draco couldn’t hold back a few breathless chuckles at that, which served to bring him down a bit so he wouldn’t embarrass himself by coming as soon as Potter touched him with his cock. After all his complaining about Creevey, he really didn’t want to prove just as quick off the mark. 

Potter turned to him before the trousers had even fully settled against the floor and pounced, grabbing Draco’s legs and pulling them over his shoulders as he leaned forward, bending Draco nearly in half to give him another bruising kiss. He pulled back from the kiss, twisting to search the rumpled sheets for the vial of lubricant. As soon as he found it, he ripped the top off with his teeth and leaned back to pour it directly on his cock.

Draco stayed his hand, wanting to do this, too. This was his first true glimpse of Potter’s cock, and his breath caught as he looked at it. Gods, it was gorgeous. A deep red, it throbbed, standing out from Potter’s groin proudly, thick, long, and uncut. The foreskin had pulled away from the head already, showing the glistening tip. Draco pushed up, bracing himself on one elbow and sliding his legs off Potter’s shoulders so he could reach forward, smoothing the oil in himself. 

Potter’s head fell back and he groaned, pushing his cock into Draco’s hand, hips bucking. Draco released a shaky breath when he finished smoothing the oil in and released Potter’s cock, laying back down against the pillows and slowly sliding his legs back up Potter’s arms, squeezing a bit at the widest point of his shoulders before settling them into the natural groove midway between the tips of his shoulders and his neck. 

He licked his lips and said, “Now, Potter.”

Potter opened his eyes again and looked down at Draco, slowly nodding his head. He leaned forward, gripping Draco’s hips and pulling them up. Positioning the head of his cock against Draco’s prepared entrance, he locked gazes with Draco and gave a firm thrust, pushing cleanly through the ring of muscles and into Draco, stopping briefly there, watching closely for any sign that Draco was experiencing any discomfort. 

When Draco just moaned and thrust his hips up, Potter released a ragged breath and pushed the rest of the way forward, sliding fully inside until his hips were flush against Draco’s. He stopped again then, and Draco sent up a silent thanks to all the gods that Potter hadn’t come yet. 

After waiting a moment for Draco to adjust to him, Potter pulled almost all the way out and thrust firmly forward, ripping a shout from Draco. When it seemed he might stop again, Draco reached up and grabbed Potter’s head, growling, “Stop now and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Potter’s grin was shaky as he fought down his need to come right then. Draco smiled evilly and flexed his inner muscles, prompting a spate of hissed curses from Potter. 

“Fuck, Malfoy! I don’t want to hurt you. If you do that again, I won’t be able to hold ba—ahhh!” When Draco deliberately squeezed again, Potter dropped down, bracing his hands on either side of Draco’s head, and started pounding forcefully into him, his hips slamming into Draco’s, forcing him further and further up the bed until Draco had to brace himself against the headboard to keep from beating his head on it. 

Nothing had ever felt as good as this. Potter was a god among men, truly. Or, at least a god among toppy gay men, at any rate. He knew how to angle his cock to bring Draco the maximum pleasure, and the fierce pounding was making him writhe and moan, meeting Potter’s nearly violent thrusts with fierce ones of his own.

Draco removed one hand from the headboard, needing friction on his cock, needing it _now_. He began to fist himself roughly in time to the motion of Potter’s hips and it wasn’t long before Draco’s eyes opened wide and he went completely stiff, his feet turning in, toes brushing against Potter’s soft, wild hair, as he came, his cock spurting his creamy come all over his and Potter’s chests.

At the contractions of Draco’s arse around his cock, Potter shouted and thrust, even harder than before, three more times, finally shoving his hips flush against Draco’s as he released his orgasm deep inside Draco, his body shaking all over as he pulsed into Draco’s still spasming arsehole. When he was done, Potter slumped into a heap on top of Draco, breathing erratic, heart pounding frantically against Draco’s ribs.

Draco lifted one hand and hesitantly brushed the hair back off of Potter’s face, trying to make sure Potter hadn’t blacked out on top of him. Or died. If ever an orgasm deserved to go down in history as life-threatening, it had been that one. But Potter appeared to still be not only alive but also conscious. His eyes were wide with awe and completion. 

Potter slowly slid his cheek against Draco’s chest, inadvertently smearing come onto his face and pushed up off of Draco with a groan. Rolling exhaustedly to the side, Potter said, voice husky and breathless sounding, “Gods, that was good.”

Draco cocked his head lazily to the side before murmuring, “I’d say it was _just right_.”

~*~

Elsewhere in the castle, the Sorting Hat gave a smug grin before muttering, “And they all lived happily ever after.”

The End.


End file.
